Extinctus amabitur idem
by ianthewaiting
Summary: When Hermione Granger realizes that important details of her memory are somehow missing, she finds that a powerful Charm has erased all memory of Severus Snape the night he was supposedly killed. In the process of regaining her memories, Hermione finds instead the man, but not the memories she so desperately needs to save him. DH-EWE, AU, Angst
1. Chapter 1

**Extinctus amabitur idem**

 **Rating:** MA  
 **Warnings:** DH-EWE, AU, M/F, some angst  
 **Genre:** Drama, Mystery/Suspense, Romance  
 **Summary:** When Hermione Granger realizes that important details of her memory are somehow missing, she finds that a powerful Charm has erased all memory of Severus Snape the night he was supposedly killed. In the process of regaining her memories, Hermione finds instead the man, but not the memories she so desperately needs to save him.

 **Disclaimer:** The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.

This work was original written for the 2010 SS/HG Fic Exchange on LiveJournal

* * *

 **Chapter One**

I knew I was far too young to be losing my mind, and the concept of Alzheimer's was as foreign to the Wizarding world as online shopping. All the same, the fact that I was mixing up details of my past was alarming sign of something not being quite right. Dementia was not something that ran in the Granger family, and I had not hit my head enough times to explain the gaps and misinformation my brain was feeding back. At first, I thought it was post-traumatic stress. I had read of cases of post-traumatic stress sometimes interfering with memories, and for a while I chalked it up to the fact that I, at the age of seventeen, had experienced enough wartime traumas to need intensive therapy.

Psychology was as much a pseudo-science in the Wizarding World as it was to some people in the Muggle world, and I, for one, considered psychology that—something not substantially based on empirical fact. Yet, here I was, sitting in a waiting room, hoping to get my head 'shrinked.'

Dr. Martha Jones was a well-respected psychiatrist, and like myself, Muggleborn. She was in her sixties, an elegant woman with perfect ebony skin and sparkling violet eyes, and when she admitted me to her office, motioning for me to sit down on an antique velvet upholstery chaise, I noticed that she had warded her office for silence. I was sure her Muggle clients felt much at ease with the embedded wards in the walls, inducing a sense of security. I sat, and looked at the walls with its fine décor, warm colors, and a window overlooking a small park. Dr. Jones sat down in an armchair across a glass-topped coffee table, my file in her long fingers, and a pair of half-moon reading glasses perched on her long nose.

This was the first meeting, and being such, scheduled to last an hour and half to give her time to become acquainted with whatever it was I needed to be analyzed. I was nervous, just as I was always nervous when about to open myself up to scrutiny.

"You just finished an apprenticeship with Minerva McGonagall?"

I cleared my throat and crossed my ankles, leaning slightly into the side of the chaise, not sure whether to lay back or sit on the edge. Personally, I thought the chaise was a bit stereotypical of a psychiatrist's office and not exactly functional for someone like me who liked eye contact. I did not feel the need to lay back and relax, spilling my guts to a doctor who took notes in the distance.

"Yes, and I have an interview at the Ministry later this week—that is part of the reason I am here."

Yes, my interview for a position in the Department of Mysteries... I knew the process in which one was to become an Unspeakable, and I knew that there would be psychological screenings. The Department did not want someone who had the slightest mental deficiency or defect. Megalomaniacs and kleptomaniacs would never be able to work in the Department of Mysteries for obvious reasons, but what about a young woman who kept confusing her memories? I doubted that the Department would want someone who could not remember important details of history. It did not matter that I was Hermione bloody Granger, friend of Harry Potter, and my reputation, no matter how important, meant little to the Department of Mysteries. It only mattered that I was of sound mind and body, able to face whatever challenges presented to me. I did not feel that my mind was sound at all...

"And you have written here that you are concerned that stress has made you unable to pass your interview?"

I nodded, hoping that the hasty notes I had written on the admittance form were legible.

Dr. Jones set the file down on her lap and removed her glasses to smile at me. "Well, I certainly hope that I can help, Miss Granger."

I agreed. I knew less than a week was not nearly enough time, but it was a start.

"I should start by saying that whatever you say will be kept confidential. Of course, I am sure you know this, but I must say it aloud."

I nodded again.

"I do offer a service, casting a series of vows, if that would be more reassuring?"

"I do not suffer from paranoia, Doctor, just post-traumatic stress," I said with a smirk.

Dr. Jones chuckled, and crossed her legs, the hiss of her pants legs the only sound in the silent office. I inhaled and waited for the Doctor's most logical question.

"Tell me about your memory loss?"

"I would not call it 'loss' per se, but confusion," I corrected the Doctor.

Dr. Jones nodded, "Then about this 'confusion.'"

And so, I started.

* * *

Several months before, I was sitting in the garden at the Burrow, having just returned from a tenth anniversary memorial service at Hogwarts. The occasion also marked the end of my apprenticeship with Professor McGonagall, but the true reason for my return to Hogwarts had been to unveil a plaque to mark the place where Dumbledore had fallen. It was needless to think about all the emotions that played through the crowd that had gathered, let alone Harry, who was silent through the whole affair. The occasion was nothing short of depressing, but important.

Lest we forget...

The gardens outside the Burrow were a marked change to the cold rain at Hogwarts, and drinking cold drinks and watching Harry's first-born toddle in the grass erased the depression. All the same, we were all waxing nostalgic. It had been years since we were all together—myself, Ron, Ginny, Harry, Molly, Arthur and the children who had been born in those ten years since the death of Dumbledore. Molly was playing with her grandson and Ginny was lying in a hammock, rubbing her swollen belly and dozing.

"Has it really been ten years?" Ron asked and I looked to my old friend and former lover as he rubbed condensation from his icy glass of pumpkin juice. "Will it feel so long after twenty?"

Harry remained silent, sitting next to me, watching Ginny as her hand stopped moving over her belly and she fell asleep.

"I think so," Arthur answered from beside Ron, his voice trying to introduce a little cheer among us. "I feel like an old man now that I am a grandfather, and that my twilight years have come and gone."

I smirked. Arthur had barely aged since those darker days, even with the loss of his son, and the death of so many of our friends.

"It is so strange," Ron murmured. "Everything seems like a blur, and even in ten years it is hard for me to remember their faces..."

It was hard for me as well, hard to remember the faces of our friends who had died, and I felt ashamed. I could not even remember the sound of Dumbledore's voice anymore, or how Fred's laugh sounded. It was a sin, if I believed in such a thing, to forget, and I bowed my head.

"Do you remember, Hermione?" Ron asked, and I looked to him, missing his initial question to me.

"Hm?"

"Snape? Then how we had to leave him? I think that was maybe the worst..."

I blinked. "Snape? Professor Snape?"

Harry regarded me then.

"How we never found his body?"

I frowned. I had not thought about Professor Snape in a long time, but as I tried to recall him, I suddenly drew a blank.

"We didn't?"

Harry blinked his green eyes at me, but still remained silent.

Ron set his glass down in the grass and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, regarding me with confusion. "Yeah, when we went back to the Shack, there was only blood...don't you remember?"

I could not. In fact, I could not even remember being in the 'Shack.' I supposed Ron meant the Shrieking Shack. I shook my head.

"Do you not remember V-Voldemort...the snake?"

No, I could not. I remember coming through to the Room of Requirement, I remember meeting with Neville, I remember how Harry and I searched the Room for the diadem, but I... I shook my head again. I knew we must have found Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem, destroyed the Horcrux, but how did we do it?

"He gave me the memories..." Harry said finally, in a whisper. "Memories of my mother..."

How could Professor Snape done that? I could feel my mouth working, but nothing was coming out. I could remember many things, but the harder I tried to recall the tall, dark, taciturn man, the less I could recall. The last image I had of Severus Snape was the night he murdered Albus Dumbledore, and even then he had fled past me with Draco Malfoy as I was trying to fight off Amycus Carrow... I remembered that he looked at me in passing, his pale face screwed up in a scowl more intense than I had ever seen it in the classroom.

Merlin, I could not remember my marks I received in his class when he taught DADA!

My hand moved to my useless, flapping mouth, and I sat back in my old lawn chair, eyes focused on the grass of the garden.

The touch of Harry's hand on my shoulder caused me to gasp and I suddenly realized that everyone, with the exception of a softly snoring Ginny and the baby, were looking at me as if I had something growing out of my face.

Harry patted my shoulder, rising and going to Ginny to wake her, and soon all eyes moved pointedly away from me. They thought I was going barmy, I supposed, but no more was said on the subject of my memory loss.

That night, I returned to my flat in London and started searching boxes. I had kept clippings of everything the Prophet had printed in the wake of the War. There were lists of names of those killed in action, printed memorials, details written up by interviews with those who survived, and exclusives on the trials of the surviving Death Eaters. I found Snape's name on the list of those Missing in Action, and the in-absentia trial where he was exonerated with Harry's testimony. I even found my own account of the War and Last Battle, but I could not remember speaking the words. I had not been asked about Severus Snape, it seemed.

After the trials, there was nothing in my clippings remotely related to Snape, and it appeared as if the matter of the missing body was of no importance to the Wizarding World. This disturbed me, and as I lay in bed that night, I kept recalling the events of that night in May almost ten years ago. My personal timeline was oddly truncated, whole hours missing and replaced with unexplainable blankness.

The next morning, I performed a few diagnostic spells on myself, finding no abnormalities, finding that I had no hexes or curses working on my body. All I found was that I was nearly thirty years old, slightly overweight from lack of physical activity, suffering from allergies to the dust I had stirred up by going through boxes, and over tired. I had not slept much the night before. Other than the minor physical deficiencies, I was completely fine, but I was not...

I located my copy of 'The Last Great War,' Luna Lovegood had written a few years before, part of a series of articles published in the Quibbler to which she now owned. I had read the book once, but even that memory seemed oddly faded in my brain. Luna, despite her eccentricities, had taken time to write about the events of the Last Battle in the end chapters. She was somewhere in Scandinavia now, working on cryptozoological research with her husband and returned the Quibbler to something short of a tabloid newspaper dealing with what the Quibbler had been devoted to—the existence of the paranormal in the Wizarding World.

 _'The matter of Severus Snape has never been quite explained,' Luna had written and I had to give her credit for being quite the wordsmith. 'Upon the return to the Shrieking Shack (see full notation about the Shack's history in Chapter Two), Harry Potter and company found that the body of Severus Snape was missing. The amount of blood was evidence enough that the man had died from the snakebite witnessed earlier. However, the body, wand, and any trace of the former Headmaster were missing and never located. During the Ministry trials, it was speculated that a Death Eater had removed the body to another location to either destroy the remains or inter them. It was not until after the trials did the matter of Snape's involvement with the Order of the Phoenix was revealed. There is much speculation among historians as to who had removed the body and why, but this writer will leave speculation out of this analysis. Currently, Severus Snape is listed as Missing in Action, presumed Dead.'_

I could not remember reading this short paragraph about Snape's supposed death, and as I closed the thick tome, I tried to recall my supposed witnessing of other deaths.

I remembered Voldemort's final death, and if I knew that if I would ever forget that event, I would commit myself to St. Mungo's. I remembered Molly slaying Bellatrix Lestrange, and I remembered Dobby... I tried to distance myself from the memories of losing my friends, and this was the hardest thing to do—I remembered Sirius, I remembered when we got word that Mad Eye Moody was killed, I remembered Fred, I remembered the moment when we thought Harry was dead... No matter how I tried, and although I was supposedly only one of three people to witness it, I could not remember Severus Snape.

* * *

"Why does this bother you, Hermione?" Dr. Jones asked.

I was suddenly back in the office with Dr. Jones, tracing a pattern in the velvet of the chaise, leaning fully against the back.

"Because it was important," I sighed. "Because Severus Snape was important."

Dr. Jones crossed her arms about her waist, leaning back into her chair. "You admired him?"

I shrugged. "He _was_ my professor, and he was brilliant, but I would not go as far to say that I admired him. I esteemed him."

"And you have been examined at St. Mungo's?"

I shook my head. "I did not want to bother. If anything, I trust my own ability."

Dr. Jones nodded and moved her hands to her lap. "Would you consent to me examining you?"

I snorted. "You can do that?"

"I am a trained Healer, Hermione, besides my Ph. D. I do have a specialization..."

"Yes, yes, if you think it would be helpful," I sighed.

Dr. Jones nodded again, and I was starting to find it slightly annoying that she nodded so much at my words. However, when she rose, drawing a wand concealed in her sleeve, I was tuned into that wand, fifteen-inch balsam wood and by the weight of it in her hand, and I determined that it must have a unicorn hair core. I tried to relax when Dr. Jones sat on the chaise next to me, inhaling her perfume of a mixture of sandalwood and musk.

"It might help if you close your eyes," Dr. Jones said softly, and I did so, waiting.

A faint tickling spread from the crown of my head to my toes, and I knew the Doctor was performing a simple diagnostic spell, much like my own. Then, the tickling turned to an itch behind my eyes, as if I had caught a mote of dust behind my eyelashes. I reached up to rub, but Dr. Jones made a tutting noise and I dropped my hand to my lap again.

"This might feel a little uncomfortable, Hermione, but do endure?"

I nodded.

The itching turned into a burning behind my eyes and I felt the need to sneeze as the burning moved to my ears and nose. Then, the light I saw through my eyelids turned from red to black. The sudden change startled me as the burning began to fade, replaced by refreshing coolness.

'Curse you; you should have let me die...'

The voice had come from a distance, sounding as if spoken through a tin can, echoing and thin. I knew the voice, and as quickly as the voice had come, it faded, and I opened my eyes to stare at Dr. Jones who was frowning at me in a manner that made me feel as if I had done something wrong.

Dr. Jones rose and slipped her wand back into her sleeve, moving to sit down in her chair. We regarded each other for a long time. When the Doctor posed her next question, not to me but to a point just behind me, I fell against the back of the chaise and covered my mouth.

"How long have you been following her, Severus Snape?"

In the nearly ten years since the battle at Hogwarts, I lived my life much as I wanted it. I divided my time between Harry and Ron, and studying at University before my apprenticeship. I took a flat in London where I would retreat when I wanted to be alone, and I attended the family functions at the Burrow. Ron and I had started and ended a relationship not long after the War, and decided to remain good friends. The truth was, however, I had purposely distanced myself from my oldest friends, claiming to want to do well in University, studying Physics.

I had wanted to believe the unease I sometimes inspired in my old friends had much to do with what we had gone through together. We were growing up, and some things and some memories had to be forgiven and forgotten. Yet, I was aware that now that the War was over, the kinship we felt was waning. We had been brought together out of necessity, or by fate, what have you, but now that we were able to be our true selves, the 'Golden Trio' found that we really did not have much in common. I would always be ambitious and inquisitive; Ron would always be oddly brilliant, but more suited for more jocular pursuits. And Harry...Harry would always be brooding, introspective, and somewhat miserable.

I loved them, correction, I love them, but as well as we functioned as a unit, we needed to be individuals. And so, I went to University, aligned myself with people much like myself, but often returned to the boys when I needed that sense of security and familiarity. In the times when I was away from Harry and Ron, I felt a freedom I had never known. In those free moments, I never felt as if I were somehow cut off from the Wizarding World, I still was a witch no matter how much time I spent in the Muggle world. All around me, even in Muggle London, I felt magic running in a vein deep under my feet, or in the air. Magic followed me, curiosity clothed me, and I never felt lonely.

All the same, I was solitary, living alone, with not even a familiar since Crookshanks died two years after the War. I did not feel the need to pursue personal relationships beyond a few dates with fellow students, or the times Ron would show up on my doorstep wanting a quick go-around, which inspired a mixture of anger and guilt afterward. I always felt that I had been rewarded somehow for all that suffering I had seen and experienced, rewarded with confidence and ability.

It never occurred to me until recently that the magic I felt was not natural. It also never occurred to me that the satisfaction I felt in my work, my wellbeing, and myself was not exactly of my own making. Introspection and self-analysis rarely came, and I was a goal-oriented personality. Once I graduated with honors from University, I went on to the next goal of apprenticing in Transfiguration and Arithmancy, and once that apprenticeship was completed, I would go on to interview for a position as an Unspeakable and work my way toward another goal. These were things I wanted, things I needed, and I did not think for a moment that I would not be able to do these things until I started to find that my own memory had somehow been edited and replaced with darkness.

There was a voice inside me, and I called it my Ego, that compelled me to continue with my studies. I always did talk to myself, weighing options, working out logistics, and working through challenges. My Ego was my mind's way of keeping order to my thoughts, and I never denied this voice when it spoke to me. I assumed everyone had this inner voice, whether they paid much attention to it or not. Call it conscience; call it inner self, but my inner voice had the shape and tone of Severus Snape, a man I did admire, though I would never admit it. I supposed Harry's inner voice sounded a lot like Dumbledore or his parents, and Ron had an inner voice of his own. These things were not something anyone ever talked about, and why should they?

But here I was, sitting in a psychiatrist's office in London, and just behind me, unseen and unfelt, was Severus Snape.

"How long have you been following Hermione?"

I felt my eyes grow wide at the insanity of the question. Yes, it was insanity.

'Ever since the night the Dark Lord was destroyed,' the voice came, and I could not determine where the voice had come from. I whirled, standing, and let my wand fly from my skirt pocket to my hand.

There was no one besides Dr. Jones who had also risen from her seat.

"You are no ghost?" Dr. Jones asked, her eyes still pointed behind the chaise where I had been sitting.

'No, I am quite alive.'

The voice was still distant, and obviously audible to Dr. Jones. I could not see anyone, not even the hazy outline that would alert human eyes to the manifestation of a ghost.

"Why are you following Hermione?" the Doctor asked, taking a step toward me, but not looking at me.

'You are quite impressive, Doctor, with your spell work, but I do not believe you were one of my students?'

The Doctor smirked and laid a hand on my elbow to lower my wand hand. "I studied in France, Professor, courtesy of Madame Maxine. Now, could you please explain yourself?"

Silence.

My mouth was quivering, in fact, my whole body quaked and even if I could somehow cast a defensive spell, my aim would have been terribly off.

'I do believe that Miss Granger should do that, she is the one with the answer.'

The voice had not changed from my memories, and the intonation was just as sardonic and biting. It frightened me, intimidated me upon hearing it with my own ears. For years it had only been inside my head, and much softer.

"I... I..."

I was completely useless, in a state of shock I had not known since the War.

Then as if from the wallpapered wall, a flash came, and suddenly Dr. Jones was blown from my side, flying across the room to fall into her chair.

'Obliviate.'

I whimpered, seeing for only an instant, the outline of a shape near the window. The spell had brought the shape into being, a tall, thin shape with sharp outline. In that instant, I saw a wand, and then nothing but the park outside behind the fading shape of a man...

'Destroy that file, Miss Granger, and flee.'

I obeyed, though my brain was screaming to resist. The file Dr. Jones had with all my information was Vanished, and I, my body somehow not in my control, moved to the office door and left the waiting area without anyone seeing me. I could feel the press of a body against my back and a wand tip digging into my ribs.

I was a hostage to an invisible man.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"Where are we going?"

I knew I probably looked ridiculous on the street, slightly hunched over and walked without my feet barely touching the cement. I could not see the force that compelled me forward, and as I passed windows I could see no reflection of a figure against my back, let alone my own reflection. I had no time to consider this odd sight.

'To your flat.'

Then I was in an alleyway, off the street, and then I was in my flat. It had been a long time since I had experience Side-Along Apparition, and as I was the one along for the 'ride' I was disoriented for a moment. I found myself being pushed toward my couch, though my all appearances, I was alone.

My small one bedroom apartment had only the living area and kitchenette, a tiny washroom off the front door and a bedroom behind the washroom. There was really no place for anyone or anything to hide and I scanned the flat.

"Are you there?" I asked in a whisper.

'Quite.'

I started to withdraw my wand, but it was pulled from my hand, disappearing into the air near the front door as if physically snatched from my hand. I think I cursed, but did not move from where I had fallen on the couch. The idea that I was not alone did not register in my perception. I could not hear anyone besides myself breathing, and I could no longer feel the sensation of another living being in my vicinity.

'I think a conversation is long overdue, don't you?'

I swallowed thickly and reoriented myself on the couch to sit properly. I nodded though my eyes tried to focus on the place where my wand had disappeared.

'First of all, I will return your wand in due time, once we have established that you will not start blasting your flat into oblivion.'

Why would I do that? Even though I felt like perhaps running, calling the authorities, or screaming, I would never haphazardly start casting hexes and curses toward an invisible entity. My walls were lined with books, my precious books, and I would no sooner destroy them as I would crush a helpless insect under my shoe.

"Alright," I whispered.

'Now then, I did not expect that a Doctor would somehow alter the charm and reveal my existence. It is both a good and bad thing. Surely, Dr. Jones, with her level of expertise on memory modification, will, at some point, realize what I had done. Until then, we must sort out the matter of your Charm.'

"My Charm?"

'Yes, _your_ Charm, Miss Granger.'

I did not understand and said as much.

'It seems that you have somehow purged the memory from your mind. I realized this years ago.'

The voice that sounded in my flat was still distant, somehow echoing in the small space. It unnerved me that I could hear it at all outside of my head.

"Years?"

'Almost ten years. I have been with you for that long.'

I felt my brow furrow and my mouth flap. I hated this, not understanding, not perceiving, not knowing...

"How? I mean, why?"

I heard a sigh from the kitchenette and turned my eyes in that direction.

'The parameters of the Charm keep me tethered to you. I can go as far as one standard mile from your body, but no further. If I attempt to go beyond that range, I am pulled back, as if on a spring. It is unpleasant, to say the least, but for the past ten years I have always been anywhere from a few inches to one mile from your person.'

Flabbergasted, that was all I could describe my feelings at the disembodied words. Terrible thoughts streamed through my brain. For the past ten years I had been mostly alone, studying at University, conducting an apprenticeship resulting in a dissertation. I had travelled to Australia to visit my parents who decided to remain even after I removed their memory Charm. I had traveled to the Continent, to America, and all that time, Severus Snape had been with me?

I blushed, realizing that he must have seen the more intimate moments of my life in those years, and I shook my head roughly to stop myself from trying to recount those moments one by one.

'In all these years, I have tried to understand the mechanisms behind the Charm with varying degrees of success. The result was my ability to speak to you through a voice into your mind. It is Occlumency, of a sort, but it got us to this point.'

"What do you mean?"

There was a pause and another sigh, loaded with a frustration I was also beginning to feel.

'Do you really think that alone you would have gone to Dr. Jones? Or even be so willing to submit yourself to the Department of Mysteries without my prompting and encouragement?'

My hands grasped my skirt, fisting the material. No, I had wanted this. I wanted to work at the Department of Mysteries... The place frightened me, though, but I had to face my fear of the unknown. Ever since the night all those years ago, trying to collect the prophecy, seeing Sirius fall through the Veil, suffering at the hands of Dolohov...

Did I really want to go to work there?

'It was my impetus, Miss Granger, all because I believe the answer to breaking the Charm might lie with the Department of Mysteries.'

It was a lie and I rose from the couch to face the kitchenette. "No. This is my life, and you, you are just...'

Just what? A voice in my head? A figment of an overactive imagination? I had seen Snape die... But had I? I groaned to myself and sat back down. I could not remember.

'You see, Miss Granger, I was the one who prompted you to somehow try and rediscover whatever magic you have set upon yourself, to help you regain the memory of what you have done to us. I had not expected Dr. Jones to out me so soon, or we would not be having this conversation so openly.'

I closed my eyes and ran a hand over my face, trying to smooth away the humiliation I suddenly felt. Then, my brain returned to default and I began logically rationalizing the idea that I was talking to a voice, coming from a man I could not see.

"How is it that I never noticed that you have been with me? Surely, I would have noticed that I was not alone."

There was a soft snort. 'It seems that everything I touch turns invisible. Every time I tried to make a mark of my existence to you, it was erased as soon as my fingers were no longer touching the object. I tried writing messages where you would find it, I tried touching you, but I suppose until Dr. Jones unraveled some of the Charm, the force of my touch was powerless against your person. I could touch other people, but not you, not in a way so that you would sense it. I went through one year making all sorts of mischief with the people around you, acting very much like a poltergeist...'

I rolled my eyes. There had been one year in France where it seemed everyone around me kept having 'accidents' of varying degrees. Even Madame Maxine, who had graciously allowed me to stay at her Academy, seemed to have a problem with someone altering her dresses to be too small or too large. We, being myself and some of the professors at Beauxbatons, believed there was a little ghost misplacing books, tripping students in the halls, playing childish pranks, but had it been Severus Snape all along?

I stifled a laugh.

'I stole what I needed to survive, and you never seemed to notice that there was less food in the icebox than what you had placed there. You never seemed to notice that there were times when I would redecorate the flat or hide your quills in the most ridiculous places...'

There was anger in the voice, and sadness and I sighed softly.

'When I realized that I could only whisper into your mind, I focused my energies there.'

"Then..." I began. "Then you survived Nagini's attack, then what? Did I save you?"

'Yes. My own memory fails me about that night. I remember the snake, and I remember giving Potter the memories. I believed I had died, but I suppose that Nagini's venom simply paralyzed me for a time. I was barely alive, only a spark of stubborn resistance burning slowly inside. I only know that when I became cogent of my surroundings, I was at Hogwarts, and you were looking at me.'

I blinked. "Me?"

'And someone else, but I could not see who. I only know that I could feel the wards at Hogwarts around me, I was still connected by my position as Headmaster at that point. I suppose it was not long after the Battle, which I had to learn about only long after the fact, by the point at which no one could see me. I only know that you performed a Charm over my body, and even my memory of that event is mired in pain and delirium.

When I was able to move on my own, my wounds healed, my body sore, I was with you at the Weasley's hovel, watching you wallow in grief and misery like the rest of them.'

I did remember this. After the War, when my mind was unburdened, my body finally healed, and my grief expunged to a level of functionality, I had stayed at the Burrow for lack of anywhere else to go. It had been a solemn time of reflection, and the time spent at the Burrow was more symbolic than anything to me. It was an odd time, in my mind, a time when I relied so much on Ron and he on me.

The rebuilding of our lives occurred the summer after the War, sometime in August, just after the beginning of the Ministry inquiry.

'By then, you had no memory of me or what you may have done. I spent months trying to contact you, and it was not until you passed your N.E.W.T.s that I tried Legilimency and Occlumency to somehow know your mind, a bit of magic that did seem to affect you.'

It had been after my N.E.W.T.s that I began listening to my inner voice, which compelled me to work toward University and then my apprenticeship. Merlin, it had been Severus Snape... I had to let that idea go, I knew, but it galled me that nearly ten years of my adult life had been directed and overseen by that man. Had any bit of my life been my own?

Then I felt a touch on my hand where it rested on the arm rest of the couch and I recoiled, eyes searching for something to explain the sensation.

'There is no time to feel sorry for yourself, Miss Granger.'

I bit into my lower lip and gently replaced my arm on the couch. The touch did not come again.

"You always called me by my first name. You calling me 'Miss Granger' reminds me too much of the hours I spent in the Potions laboratory."

I don't know why I wanted to hear my name, but it seemed important.

'Hermione...'

I sighed. The manner in which my name was spoken eased my body to relax. I knew this voice almost as well as my own, Merlin; I had been listening to this voice for nearly a decade!

'Hermione, do me justice?'

I cocked my head and looked to my right side where the touch had come from. "What do you mean by that?" I whispered.

I could feel the darker change in the flat, and the anger. The anger had not been there before, just the frustration.

'You did this to me. You are responsible. You owe me my freedom,' he hissed.

I did, but I could not simply feel responsible when I could not remember. There was no reason for me to consider Severus Snape as a living man until that moment, and the result of something I could not remember doing. If I had known that I had a shadow of a sort, following me through my day to day, I surely would have pondered what to do about Severus Snape. Even then, he would have known my mind, and though this idea horrified me, I would never have kept Severus Snape a prisoner to my existence.

I must have had a good reason that was all I could think. I had saved Severus Snape, but why, and when?

"After the Battle, I was part of a group to identify and treat the dead and wounded," I said, more to myself than to my invisible man. "Hagrid and I..."

'Hagrid?'

My hand went to my mouth and I cried out. It was not exactly a 'eureka' moment, but it was the first tangible lead, perhaps.

I rose and whirled about the flat, reaching out blindly until, like a shock of electricity, my hand clothes on something cool and smooth. My fingers searched and read that I was touching a throat. He was standing just before me and my arms were upraised to find his face. I nearly wept as I felt a long nose and a high brow under my fingertips, then long, oily hair. When I found his hands, calloused and large, I wrapped my fingers about what appeared to be air.

"Give me my wand."

From the air, my wand dropped into my left hand, and the touch of vinewood sent another shock through me. I heard him inhale, felt his breath on the crown of my head. I could feel him, feel his clothing, his heat, and as I squeezed the invisible hand, I told the air to hold on tight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

No one saw me as I passed through the open gates of Hogwarts, not even Filch's cat when I pulled the invisible Severus Snape along with me up the road to the castle passing the caretaker as he kicked at a clod of weeds by the road. It was strange and nostalgic, moving unseen. I did not need Harry's cloak to be invisible, and this fact bothered me greatly.

There were no Charms or spells in my vast encyclopedic brain that allowed a witch or wizard to be invisible, simply Disillusioned. Without the help as something as powerful as Harry's Hallowed cloak, no living being could pass through heavily wards like that of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, yet we did, and no alarm was raised. It was odd, and empowering, to remain unseen, but I did not voice my thoughts. I simply walked, holding an unseen hand, across the grounds, knowing that the school was closed for the summer holiday. I only hoped that Hagrid was at his hut.

I looked back, knowing that Severus Snape was behind me, but even in the extended invisibility, I could not see him. I could hear his breathing and feel his cool fingers in my palm, but nothing more.

'Every time you Apparate, I get winded,' I heard him say, but said nothing in reply.

Hagrid's hut was just the same as it had been in my schooldays, more or less an ancient hovel with cages and barrels all about the outside. The door was open and as we ascended the worn stone steps, it was clear that Hagrid was not at home though there was a low fire burning in the huge fireplace.

'The paddocks then?' Severus suggested, and I smirked at the thought of calling him by his first name.

It made sense that I call him Severus, if anything; he was very familiar with me.

The paddocks were empty, but Hagrid's crossbow and oversized quiver rested on the wall. My old friend must be close, and I pulled Severus along into the trees of the Forest. It was as we entered the shadows under the trees that Severus pulled his hand from mine.

'I can manage, Hermione,' he growled and I paused at the sudden loss of his touch. I felt no different, but found it suddenly unsettling that I could not feel Severus' hand. As I could not see him, I only nodded toward the Forest. He could not go far from me, no further than a mile, and he obviously had his wand, though I could not see it either.

"As you like," I muttered and trekked along the trail that led deeper into the Forest. It was just as well that Severus had released me, I did not want to sneak up on Hagrid, and it would be pointless in trying to talk to the half giant while invisible.

Two hundred yards deeper into the trees, I found Hagrid kneeling under an enormous oak tree, petting a small creature that I did not recognize immediately. When I did know the creature, I felt my face light up with a smile.

"Hermione! What are you doing here?" Hagrid asked, hearing my approach and patting the small baby hippogriff on the head before rising.

"Is that...?" I started.

Hagrid beamed. "Buckbeak's first offspring, isn't she lovely?"

The baby hippogriff was bedded down in a small nest made of twigs and fine down, and at the sound of my voice, clicked its beak and seemed to purr.

"Quite so, I did not know that Buckbeak could be bred."

Hagrid was like a proud father, and laughed heartily. It had been several weeks since I had seen my friend, not since the memorial where he bellowed like a huge baby in the back of the crowd. When Hagrid opened his arms, I automatically went to him, grunting at the weight of Hagrid's arms about my body.

Distantly, I heard a snicker. Apparently, Hagrid did too.

"Who's there?" he bellowed, and I patted Hagrid's belly.

"Don't worry, it's..." I almost said 'it's no one,' but that would be a lie. "It's a long story, Hagrid, one I need to ask you about."

Hagrid blinked his black eyes and looked down at me as I stepped out of our embrace.

"Is it trouble?" Hagrid asked, his question booming though he surely meant to whisper.

I frowned. Hagrid had tensed and the baby hippogriff had risen on shaky legs at his reaction.

"No, I don't think so, but can we perhaps have some tea?"

I hoped my stomach could handle Hagrid's strong brew, but knew it would be the best way to ease Hagrid into talking.

"Sure, sure..." Hagrid said uneasily, his eyes searching the trees. He turned and went to soothe the baby hippogriff and when that was done and the beast laid its head down to sleep, we walked down the path toward the paddocks.

"Is Harry or Ron with you?" Hagrid asked as he picked up his oversized cross bow.

"No, just me today, Hagrid."

He chuckled. "You should have Floo'ed, I could have set up some lunch!"

I smiled, but out of the corner of my eye I uselessly searched for Severus. I could not even hear him, and wondered how close he was to us.

By the time I had settled into Hagrid's armchair by the fire, my feet dangling, I felt Severus' touch on my shoulder, silently telling me he was with me. It was somehow reassuring, his touch, but I made no indication that I knew he was there.

"Now, what's this long story?" Hagrid asked, passing me a cup and saucer, the saucer as large as a dinner plate. I placed it on my lap and tried not to move lest I spill the scalding tea onto my blouse.

"Let me ask you a question first?"

Hagrid sat down at the table and poured almost a whole louder of cream into his tea. He silently offered plate sized biscuits to me and I waved it away politely. Then Hagrid nodded his huge, shaggy head, blowing at his tea.

"I don't want to reopen old wounds, Hagrid, but do you remember how we went to identify the dead?"

I did not need to elaborate about the time; Hagrid knew very well what I meant.

"Yeah," he sighed then hastily slurped at his tea.

"Do you remember us finding Snape?"

Hagrid choked and spluttered, snatching a handkerchief from his pants pocket and dabbed his beard. When he finally settled, he bowed his head and inhaled deeply. It was several moments later that I realized he was crying. I set my cup and saucer on the arm of the chair and began to slide down to go to him, but Hagrid raised a paw of a hand to stop me. Hagrid blew his nose into his handkerchief and raised his face to the ceiling of the hut to inhale again.

"You know, memory charms never worked on me," he said in a thick voice. "The only reason I kept this for so long is because no one ever asked me, Hermione."

I felt Severus' hand touch mine for an instant and knew he was standing just next to the chair nearest the door.

"I wondered when you would come to ask me..."

"I don't..." I started.

Hagrid cleared his throat and let his eyes meet mine. The seriousness in Hagrid's gaze made me shudder. If anything, I could always count on Hagrid to make me smile, but this was not the time.

"I was never good at keeping secrets, but this one I kept and kept close," he whispered, a fist striking his chest at his heart. "I'm kinda glad you came, I was starting to worry..."

"Tell me," I whispered, moving my hand to wipe at my own eyes that had grown damp at the pain in Hagrid's voice.

"I had to wait for you to bring him out of the tunnel under the Whomping Willow, I could never fit down there, and I knew that when I would see Snape, I would not know what to do... But he was alive, only just and when you came out Levitating him, I wrapped him in a cloak and brought him here..." Hagrid said, motioning to the huge bed in the corner of the hut. "No one saw us, and if they did, they'd think we had someone else..." Hagrid paused and dabbed at his eyes again. "You did the best you could, healing him, and I watched over him when you went back to the castle to get potions to restore the blood he lost. You even had to wait a day to come back when Harry and Ron needed you, but you came and tended to him until we knew he would live..."

"But I don't remember," I whispered.

Hagrid nodded. "Memory charm... I don't know nothing about them, but I knew that when it was all over, you Obliviated all memory of Snape from your mind."

"Why?"

Hagrid tried to grin. "He was still thought of as the enemy, and everyone, even Harry, thought he was dead. It wasn't until after the inquiry that Snape was a hero..."

I frowned. I had known the truth about Severus, his role in the War, but why had I removed all memory of his so-called death and my role in his recovery when I knew the truth would eventually come out? Had I feared that the truth would never come?

"But what did I do to him, Hagrid?"

Hagrid frowned. "I dunno. I just know that he was alive, and then he was gone. Before you did the Charm on yourself, you told me that Snape was alive, protected, but not how. I swore to you that I would never speak of those nights to anyone but you and I haven't. Everyone thinks that Snape is dead, his body missing, but dead. And that was to be that, and that is all I know."

I half expected Severus to say something, out himself before Hagrid, but I could not tell if Severus was still in the hut.

Hagrid had not been present or seen when I supposedly Charmed Severus invisible, and this was not what I wanted to hear. Short of somehow restoring my memory, which I did not have a clue how to do, I would never know what I had done or how to reverse it. I bowed my head and clasped my hands tightly in my lap.

"Where is he, Snape, I mean?"

I said nothing.

Hagrid sighed and tried to chuckle, but it was thin. "Don't matter now, I suppose."

I half expected Hagrid to ask why I had come almost ten years after the fact, but he didn't. Instead he drank his cooled tea and I did the same, nearly gagging at the strong taste. We did not speak anymore, and when I had had my fill of tea and company, Hagrid bid me a mournful goodbye.

I followed Hagrid outside the hut and hugged his large arm, and when I was out of sight of my old friend, I felt Severus take my hand again. We walked, I imagined, side by side, to the gate and once outside of the wards, paused to turn back to the castle. Looking at the towers and battlements, I could not tell that there had been any damage to the castle at all, not like the devastation I remembered the night Voldemort was destroyed.

* * *

"I am so sorry, Severus," I whispered.

We had returned to my flat and I was about to go about my nightly routine for bed when I was struck by the idea that Severus Snape most likely knew my routines. He had seen me at my most vulnerable, possibly, the times when I ate, when I brushed my teeth, when I undressed for bed, and when I slept. I hesitated at initiating this routine, but shook myself, knowing that feeling modesty at this point would be a wasted emotion.

I stood in the washroom, preparing to brush my teeth, and wondered if he stood just outside the door, or if he had even heard my quiet apology at all. I sighed and began brushing, the tap running, and as I went through the old routine that my parents taught to me even before I could eat on my own, I tried to imagine that Severus was just behind me, waiting. I bent down to fill my glass with water to rinse and just as I stood straight again, I caught an image of black in my peripheral vision in the reflection of the mirror.

"Are you there?" I asked spitting out the wash.

'I am.'

For a split second, I had seen him, leaning against the doorjamb, dressed in a dingy white shirt and black trousers. It was more casual than the robes I always associated with the Severus Snape I remembered, but it was far too specific to be a projection of my brain. He had his arms crossed before his chest, his black eyes watching my face in the mirror, as if he had watched me brush my teeth for years. In the short moment I had to see him, I noticed that his hair was incredibly long, falling past his shoulders, still as black, still has oily. He had aged very little, but in my quick survey there were faint wrinkles about his eyes and a gleam of silver hair at his right temple.

'We are past apologies, Hermione.'

I frowned into the mirror, trying to see him in vain in the mirror's reflection.

"Why do you say that?"

He did not answer, and then I felt as if I were suddenly alone.

As I slid into my bed, I called his name.

'I am sitting on the bench,' he sighed. 'Go to sleep, there is nothing more to be said this day.'

I started to do as I was told, laying my head down on my pillow, the bedside lamp on. I did not reach over to turn the light off, but stared down to the foot of the bed to where Severus said he was sitting.

"Can you see yourself when you look in a mirror?" I asked softly

There was no way my brain was going to be able to settle into natural sleep. How could I sleep when I had an invisible man skulking around my flat?

'No.'

I frowned toward the foot of the bed. "So you have no idea what you look like now?"

'No.'

I was about to tell him that I believed I had caught a glimpse of him, but I did not mention it for fear that I was indeed going insane. I was sure that anyone would think I was insane, talking to a disembodied voice... Shock that was the only thing I could say I was experiencing. How could anyone in my position be so calm?

"Does it bother you?"

There was a soft sigh, and I imagined he was scowling at me. 'I avoided mirrors most of my life, Hermione Granger, therefore, not being able to see myself at all is a sort of blessing...'

The self-deprecating tone was unsettling, but upon hearing it, I realized that was Severus Snape's usual tone of voice, whether pointed at himself or at someone else. Sarcasm was his language, I should have known from years before, but hearing it again after so long—it was maddening.

I sat up in bed, leaning back into the head board, my arms crossing.

'Go to sleep.'

I shook my head. Besides his explanation of his actions in the past decade, I began to wonder what he thought about the things I had done of my own will, if I had had a choice. I began to wonder his feelings about Harry and Ron, as he was supposedly with me that whole time. I also began to wonder how he felt about me. He was an unwilling prisoner, but never had I felt as though he hated me. Severus had said that he could not harm me, in a roundabout way, but had he wanted to?

"Do you hate me?"

He did not answer, and as the minutes passed, I wondered if he had left the bedroom.

Where had he slept? Did he sleep? These questions went unanswered as the minutes turned into an hour of me sitting in my bed, my eyes distant, my mind whirling. Finally, I lay back down and switched off the lamp. I did not say anything more and forced my eyes shut and my brain to shut down.

* * *

"Shall I fix breakfast?" I asked my flat.

Again, there was no answer.

I blew out a breath to blow a strand of hair from my face and leaned back against the kitchen sink. A thought occurred to me and I drew my wand.

I cast several Charms, the same Charms I had cast years ago when on the run, determining if there was human life nearby. I found that I was alone in the flat, but knew that whatever Charm that held Severus Snape to me, most likely fooled the Charm I had cast. Severus Snape could very well be standing just before me, and by his silence, make me believe I was alone. I could be under surveillance, for all I knew, and I found as I tucked my wand in my jeans pocket, that every movement I made was measured.

I prepared a plate of scrambled eggs and dry toast, setting out jam and sliced tomato on the kitchen counter if Severus would want it. I retreated to my couch, placing my breakfast on the coffee table, picking at my eggs and nibbling on my toast, my eyes moving from corner to corner and then to the plate to see if it vanished as Severus' touch. It did not.

My original plan for the day, after I was to see Dr. Jones, was to go to Diagon Alley and pick up a few books I had ordered. I would go by Madam Malkin's and try on a few robes that I would wear to my interview at the Ministry, and then return home for an evening of reading. If anything, my life was very routine, very unexciting, and I felt as if I deserved a leisurely evening after my teenage years not knowing if I might live or die...

I did own a television set, but rarely used it; in fact, most of my Muggle things were barely used, as I preferred not to damage them with magic. Besides the typical appliances, all warded against spell damage, I typically tried not to introduce electronics into my life. Yet, there were some things I was unwilling to give up to live a life free of Muggle influence. I liked my CD player, I liked my toaster, and I liked my hair dryer. There was some magic that was inferior to Muggle technology.

But back to the television... I did like to watch a few programs on television, and though I would never claim it, I liked watching Attenborough, and MI-5. That night was the series finale of MI-5, and I would watch it, whether or not I had an invisible Severus Snape sitting next to me.

I snorted to myself, wondering if there had been times Severus had wanted to watch something a little less pop culture...

By ten that morning, I was about to Apparate to Diagon Alley from the threshold of my flat when I paused. Reaching out, my fingers found a sleeve.

"Did you have breakfast?"

There was a distant grunt and I looked toward the kitchen to see that the plate had gone from the counter and was clean in the sink. I blinked and found Severus' hand.

"Here we go," I whispered, and suddenly the flat disappeared around me and I felt Severus' body against me once again.

When my eyes focused again, I was in Diagon Alley. I pulled at the air just as someone else appeared at the Apparition point, and took a breath to clear my brain from the haze of Apparition. Severus said nothing, and then I did not feel his hand in mine. I stopped myself from searching the air as several witches coming out of Madam Malkin's looked at me, and recognizing who I was, began whispering to each other.

Yes, people whispered when they saw me, I had grown used to it after so many years, but now I felt particularly self-conscious.

"I'm going to the bookstore first," I whispered, slipping my wand back into my jeans pocket and moving away from the Apparition Point and down the street which was not very busy as the shops had only just opened for the day.

'I know the agenda,' I heard him say, and as I walked, an elderly wizard glanced at me oddly, obviously just hearing Severus' voice.

I nodded to my feet and continued on.

After picking up the books I had ordered, shrinking them and slipping them into my jeans pocket, I hesitated and decided not to explore the bookstore. As it was, I had a fortune in books at home, and the special order of three more had cost me a few galleons. I was, in no way, rich, and I always tried to keep a tight budget. Books were my weakness and it took a great deal of mental arguing, strangely without hearing Severus' voice for the first time, to get me to step back out onto the street.

Going into Madam Malkin's, I was greeted by one of my old House mates, Lavender Brown, who had been working as Madam Malkin's hottest new designer since after the War.

"Hermione!" Lavender squeaked as the bell on the door stopped twinkling. I was immediately embraced by Lavender in an elaborate work robe of pale blue with silver lace woven as fine as a spider's web. Lavender, as always, was impeccable in appearance and as she stepped back, holding me to examine my clothing, I knew she was trying her best to smile. A pink linen blouse, jeans, and a pair of slip on shoes were far below in taste than anything Lavender would dare wear. "This is a treat, what can I show you?"

I knew my face was on the verge of breaking into a scowl, but I smiled blandly and told Lavender about my upcoming interview only three days away.

Then it hit me. Three days from now, I would be interviewing for a position in the Department of Mysteries. The nervous ache I felt in my stomach came on like a kick to the middle. I had not thought of what I must say nor do or how to respond to the questions posed me... Merlin, I could not even remember the title of my dissertation!

"Oh dear..." I heard Lavender say and allowed her to pull me into the shop, past two older witches being fitting in the elegant fitting rooms. I was deposited on a divan, Lavender conjuring up a glass of water, pressing it into my hands. "Are you well, Hermione? It looked as if you were about to faint!"

I blinked at Lavender, uncomprehending for a moment, and then drank the proffered water in two large gulps. I spluttered and started laughing.

Merlin, I was a mess...

"I'm fine, really," I said with a slight strain in my voice, and passed the glass back to Lavender who Vanished it with a flick of the wrist. "I just realized that the interview was so close..." and that Severus Snape has been bound to me for almost ten years...

Lavender patted my hand and smiled. "Well, I will find you something quite nice and professional, say in dark green?"

I only nodded, not knowing what I really wanted to wear to perhaps the most important interview of my life. I sat back in the divan as Lavender left me to begin searching for something for me to try, fully understanding what Severus had said to me about my so-called desire to work in the basement of the Ministry of Magic.

Had I really wanted this? Had I really wanted anything that I had done since May 2, 1998?

I suddenly felt like crying.

As it was, I could not investigate my feelings for long as Lavender had returned with a floating rack of clothes for me to try. Standing, Lavender cast a Charm to determine my exact measurements and I tried to ignore my old Housemate's satisfied smirk that I had increased in size since my schooldays.

Going into a curtained room, I began trying on several dress suits and robes, letting my mind go blank about everything except how well I might look to a potential department head. Lavender's suggestion of dark green did suit me, and when I put on a long black pleated skirt, a dark green silk blouse with ruffles and a slight revelation of cleavage with a black bolero jacket, I smiled gently at my reflection.

'The skirt is not flattering.'

I closed my eyes and let my head go to my palm.

'A simple A-line would be better, and high boots with a slight heel...'

 _"Get out."_

I did not want to think about how long Severus had been with me, or the fact he had seen me in only my bra and knickers. I did not want to imagine what he thought about my body or the fact that I had gotten softer in the middle and my breasts were not as perky as they once had been.

'Do you want to make a good impression with your outfit or not?'

"Get out," I ground out and in the mirror I saw, once again, a blur of Severus Snape, slipping through the velvet curtain, the light from the shop windows making the outline of his face appear severe, and the smirk on his thin lips insulting to my sensibilities.

This man had seen me naked, Merlin, probably even saw me in the throes of a private passion, and I felt the blush burn me from my chest to the roots of my hair.

I left the changing room with my hands shaking as I held the outfit, passing it to Lavender. I asked if I could have a different skirt, and Lavender smiled, and in that smile I saw hope, hope that I was not a complete fashion disaster after all...


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

I did not have to wonder to know that Severus was near me when I Apparated back to my flat. I resized the clothes boxes, all costing me ten galleons, on my bed and then whirled around to where I could feel Severus near me by the heat of his body.

"How dare you, you, you bastard!" I screamed at the air.

There was no answer.

"How dare you watch me like some pervert when I was changing! You have no right!"

Then I felt the tears, scalding my cheeks and dripping off my jaw. I had never felt so angry in a long time, not so angry to make myself cry. I had two types of angry outbursts, the first a silent rage that usually ended in someone, usually Ron, getting hexed so badly he could not walk for a day or two. The second type of anger resulted in me breaking down in tears, usually self-pitying tears. This was the second type, the rarest type.

I sat down on my bed and held my head in my hands, wiping away my tears, but unable to keep my lips my trembling. There was nothing I could do to retaliate for the offense I felt. There was no one to strike, and I knew that Severus Snape would evade me if I started blasting indiscriminately with my wand. He would protect himself, he did have his wand, after all, and if he wanted, he could hex me, or so I imagined. But he could not hex me, could he?

I calmed myself, my brain taking the more logical path. I did not want to think about what Severus Snape thought about my body or my taste in clothes. I did not want to dwell on the fact that I had, for almost a decade, so little privacy. In my ignorance, I had found bliss. Instead, I wanted to think about how to rid myself of an invisible man.

"You cannot hex me, or cast anything against me."

I was staring at my feet on the floor, placing my hands in my lap and away from my hot face.

'No.'

He had been with me in my room all the time.

"And I cannot detect you with any Charms."

'Apparently.'

I straightened and turned my face toward the sound of his voice coming from near the door. I could only imagine that he was leaning against the jamb, arms crossed, and face stony.

"Come here," I said softly, patting the mattress to my left side.

'Have you calmed yourself?'

I sighed and closed my eyes. "Yes. Now, please..."

I could not sense movement, but for a moment I felt something brush against my left forearm and the mattress dip slightly. When I let my wand slip from my pocket to my hand, I heard an inhale next to my ear.

"I am not going to harm you; I simply want to see if I can detect your presence by spell if I touch you."

I had half a mind to press my wand tip into him and cast a hex. No, I was not so vindictive. I was still angry; but that energy was wasted upon a man I could not see. Instead, I reached over and placed my hand upon what I figured was a bony knee. I could feel the threadbare weave of his trousers under my fingertips and the hard jutting of kneecap.

When I turned to face what I thought would be his face, I cast a detection Charm. The effect was immediate, and for several moments I could see the shimmering outline of a body next to me. The Charm worked, there was a living body next to me, and the outline glittered a pale pink in the shape of Severus Snape. I could not see his face, just the line of his shoulders, the slight slouch of his upper back, the long limbs with hands folded in his lap and his long legs and feet touching the floor next to my own.

I removed my hand when the shimmering faded to nothing and cast again. Without my touch, the detection Charm told me nothing, and once again, I reached out to touch him, this time, and my hand finding his. Severus' skin was cool and rough, just as it had been the day before when I found that he had been with me. His fingers twitched as I forced his palm to turn so I could lace my fingers between his.

"I am going to try a slight Stinging Hex, just to see if something can affect you. I expect you to do the same to me in a moment. First touching me, then not..."

I could not tell if he consented or not, but continued. I cast a small hex, a tiny flash of red, in his direction and immediately I heard him grunt and his hand squeeze my own.

Frowning, I slipped my left hand from his right and cast again, this time, nothing happened and the hex flew across the bed and disappeared in a hiss into the bedroom wall. All the anger I had felt was replaced by curiosity and when I felt Severus touch my hand, I prepared for a sting.

Nothing happened.

'I have tried this before,' he whispered, a hint of frustration in his voice.

"Touching me?"

'Yes, and it never worked. But now I know that when you touch me, I can be detected, even harmed.'

I licked my lips and sighed. "That was a variable you could not know until know?"

'Yes. Even when I touched you before, you did not seem to feel it. Not until Dr. Jones removed layers from your Charm were you able to feel my touch. I could push you and pinch you, and knew my force could register, but I imagine that it did not feel like anything more than a wind at your back or an insect sting.'

This idea was horrifying. All these years, Severus Snape had tried to make contact with me, and besides being a tiny voice in the back of my brain; he had never been able to make himself known. I was to blame for all of this, and in my imagination I began thinking of how utterly frustrating it must have been for him.

"What do you expect me to find or do at the Department of Mysteries?" I asked suddenly remembering that tiny voice, Severus' voice, urging me so strongly to go to the Ministry after my apprenticeship.

He sighed and I felt his shoulder brush mine. For a moment, I felt as though I was some confidante to this man I could not see. I felt his weariness and his longing to be free. The moment passed when he pulled away and I could no longer sense him.

'The interview process, should you pass the initial stages, will include a thorough cataloging of memories and a gauging of intentions.'

"Gauging of intentions?"

There was a pause and I felt the mattress shift, imaging that Severus stood.

'The Department of Mysteries is very clear about screening potential Unspeakables. One cannot simply work there without a thorough investigation into motivations. Your dissertation will be a great introduction into the quality of your work, but the Department will want to know why you want to work there. Of course, curiosity is the key to success working in the Department—creativity, improvisation, array of skills, and mental fortitude are important, but all of this will be tested...'

I pursed my lips, seeing what Severus was going for... It did not matter if I really wanted a career as an Unspeakable. All the mattered was the in depth probing of my mind in order to determine what Charm I had cast to hide Severus Snape for almost ten years. Severus' prodding to encourage me had been his own attempt to free himself.

Again, my own wishes and desires had not been my own. My life had been hijacked, much as it had been when I was a child in the association with Harry Potter.

Merlin, I was bitter, though I denied it over and over again. As a twelve year old, I had wanted to be the best witch the world had ever known. I wanted to know everything I could about the world in which I could feel a sense of power. I wanted to be special and not the bucktooth daughter of dentists, getting high marks in school and never being anything more than an unremarkable know-it-all. I had fallen in with the most important wizard of my generation, unknowingly, and because of that, I had suffered so much loss.

I loved Harry, I loved him as much as my own life, but had I not known him, had I continued on through Hogwarts without being a third of a trio, what would my life had been? If Voldemort had not existed, if I could have gone on to pursue my interests, what would my life have been?

It would have been my own.

Here again, my ambitions were thrust aside, my dream of spending the rest of my life in the cold arms of academia, in research, in learning, was pushed aside in lieu of another man.

My ceaseless work to make myself attractive to the Department of Mysteries, my desire to know the unknowable, was my own, but was manipulated for another purpose, that if I had not gone to Dr. Jones, would also be unknowable until some Unspeakable discovered the lingering effects of the Charm I had cast. Severus had played me well, and I was a perfect little pawn.

"You will be free soon enough," I whispered, unable to hide my bitterness. "Now leave me alone."

And I was left alone. I flicked my wand to shut my bedroom door, casting to lock and ward it, not knowing if it would be of any use, and not caring.

* * *

I fell asleep at some point in the day, and when I woke slightly, it was only to see that my bedroom windows were dark. I managed to pull off my clothes, throwing them off me as the room felt warm. Slipping under a sheet on my bed, I laid my head down again and shut my eyes. Somehow I felt as if I could sleep a hundred years and never feel rested, but I slept and let myself fall into a dream.

I was in my parents' house, the house I had grown up in, a house that had been put up for sale not long after I removed my parents to Australia. In my dreams, everything was how I remembered it the last time I had been there—the pictures on the walls, the sheer white curtains open to the back garden, the pale blue rug on the floor, and the smell of freesia wafting through the garden door into the kitchen. I was lying in the living room floor, reading a book on my belly, a time and place that I took up often as a child, basking in the sunlight on the rug.

The dream changed as the sun's path sped up through the sky over the house, and I was lying on my bed, a narrow twin bed with its white railing and girlish pink canopy overhead. My old toys and books were on the shelf and arranged on the windowsill. My little vanity with its plaques and ribbons from school were arranged with pride, just as I remembered. Yet, the room was dim and the light out the casement window was a warm orange as the sun set. I was in my bed, and resting between my thighs were slender hips, above me, a dark face peering down a long nose at my face. I held that face in my hands, my fingers tracing the shell of a pale ear.

We were naked, but unmoving, and somehow I felt fear that my mother would come in the bedroom door and catch us. We were not having sex, but the position, the lack of clothing-it was all too risky...

"No one will come in, Hermione."

I had been looking toward the right, to the bedroom door, listening for movement, and had not seen his thin lips move.

I shifted and he grunted, his arms, which were holding him over me, trembled. I felt heat in my belly at the weight of him against my pelvis, and my breath caught as dipped his head, his long black hair, far longer than I remembered seeing it, swiped my breasts.

"You bring us here so often...no one will come in..." he whispered and I could see his crooked teeth and the movement of his sharp jaw.

I let my hands move to his shoulders, wide and sinewy, then along his arms, along scars, and a smudge of darkness on his inner arm. When I touched the dark hair of his chest, he grunted again, and I, involuntarily, rolled my hips, my eyes angling down to look to the point where we met. He was erect against me, the tip of his penis visibly damp where it jutted out from the combination of our curls, mine a slight auburn, his a shiny black thatch.

I knew I was dreaming, as do most people know when impossible situations like this occur, but I also knew that his words were correct. I brought us together here, in my old bed, in my old bedroom, with the fear of my mother walking in, many times over. Part of my brain, the semi-awake part, was horrified, but in truth, I felt as if I should be holding him like this, naked and unveiled.

"Will you kiss me?" I asked, unable to control my words. I had wanted to say something else entirely; something pertinent to the fact that I knew this was a dream.

"If you want."

And he did. His arms moved to lower his face to mine, and my fingers buried themselves in his mass of oily black hair. We kissed as if we had done so a million times, lips and tongue tangling, saliva wetting our mouths and cheeks. The kiss lasted an age, as in a dream, there was no need to breathe, but the kiss did end at last, and I had wrapped my legs around his hips, drawing him nearer.

"My mother..." I whispered, my brain alerting me to some sound far away.

He hushed me, his finger pressing against my lips. "No...no," he whispered.

I sighed softly and let my hands run down the length of his back, feeling the twitch of muscles and the mottled surface of scarred flesh. I knew every inch of his body, even the scar at his throat and the scars on his back. I knew his scent and his taste, and I knew his name though I never spoke it in my dreams.

Yes, we had been here many times, and many times I wanted to tell him my apologies for all the things I had ever thought about him that was bad or wrong. I wanted to tell him that I thought the world had been so terrible to us, and that we deserved these moments...

I groaned when his mouth closed over my left breast, teasing the nipple to a diamond hard peak. My fingers pressed marks in his shoulders as his tongue traced down my belly and I reached out desperately when he rose up to kneel between my knees so that he could look down at me with those impossibly black eyes.

"Do you hate me so much?" I asked the meaning unclear as part of my dreaming brain inferred his separation, while the conscious part of my brain meant something else entirely.

Did he hate me so much as to push me toward a path that I may not have wanted to travel?

"No," he answered, and the dream changed and we were on the bed in my flat and my eyes became fuzzy.

'No,' he said, and I could no longer see him. 'I never meant to hurt anyone.'

I closed my eyes, realizing that I was fully awake, and that his hands were on my knees, closing my thighs. I felt the sheet pulled over me, hiding my nakedness, but as I let my legs slide to lay flat on the bed, the weight of his body was next to me then, as real as it had been in my dream. I could still feel his kiss and the damp trail on my belly.

It had all been real, although I had dreamt him many times.

"I saved you, against your wishes, and you don't hate me."

His hand touched my cheek, but I did not open my eyes. I wanted so desperately to get back to the dream where I could see him.

'I have forgiven you.'

I pulled away, rolling away from him and pulling my sheet higher upon my shoulder.

"I have yet to forgive myself," I whispered, and could no longer feel him next to me.

The interview was hours away.

* * *

I came out of my room and immediately went into the washroom to shower and clean the residue of sleep off my skin. Under the spray of the shower, I went about scrubbing my skin, unable to rid myself of the scent I associated with Severus Snape. I came to the realization that everything I owned, my whole flat, had his scent.

Even years away from the Potions laboratory, he smelled faintly of sulphur with a counterpoint of musk, something like patchouli, but sweeter, like cinnamon. It was not a bad odor, but I could not escape it. No amount of lavender shampoo or soap could take his scent from me, and I gave up trying to scrub my hair and skin of it. When I walked into the kitchen, I found that nothing about my flat was changed. There was no physical evidence of any other living being but myself inhabited the space, and I felt a vacancy about the flat I had never experienced before.

I was completely alone.

Of course, Severus could not be far away, but he was not in my immediate sphere of existence. As I sat at the kitchen counter, going over a stack of unread mail, I was surprised to find a letter from Dr. Martha Jones' office. It was a notice that I had missed my appointment and should reschedule soon, else be charged a fee for missing the appointment without notice. I smirked and tossed the letter aside. Whatever Severus had done, besides obviously Obliviating the doctor had worked.

I prepared myself breakfast, ate in silence, looked over the books I had collected from Diagon Alley, and hanged my new clothes on the back of the bedroom door. By the time I sat down again on the couch in the living room, I could feel Severus next to me.

I think I may have screamed when I felt his trouser clad thigh against mine, and jumped up to stare at an empty seat next to where I had been sitting.

'You have sat on me before, for the record.'

I balked and moved to sit on the armchair stacked with newspapers, letting the newsprint slide into the floor.

"And I did not notice?"

There was a soft snigger. 'I would slide out of the way, and I suppose it would look as if you had only shifted in the seat... But no, you never noticed, and it has only happened twice.'

I could only stare in the direction of his voice, though it was becoming more clear and not so distant.

'Have you ever noticed that there were times you moved a little less gracefully as usual?'

Yes, several times, and I attributed it to a lapse in hand-eye coordination. I could be quite clumsy at times.

'It is no matter,' he said when I did not answer. 'What does matter is the fact that you have an interview tomorrow.'

I could no longer feel nervous about the interview now...

'In the meantime, I think we should discuss what might happen if the Charm is dispelled.'

I frowned. "I assume you will be on your merry way?"

There was a scoff. 'I doubt it will be that simple.'

"And your thoughts were?" I prompted.

I had no time to consider what might happen if suddenly Severus Snape were to appear in the course of the Department of Mysteries was interviewing or 'probing' me as Severus suggested. I began to wonder how he knew the procedure in the first place...

'As I am considered dead, though exonerated, I am sure there will be a great deal of explaining to do. Personally, I would like to avoid that disaster, if possible.'

Merlin... It suddenly occurred to me that Rita Skeeter was about to release the unofficial biography of Severus Snape, it had been advertised in the Prophet for a month now, and I wondered if Severus had seen it—surely he had, this was Severus Snape after all. As I was about to ask about Skeeter's book, Severus' disembodied voice spoke again.

'If I am to reappear to mortal eyes, it should be done in a location where the magical population will not recognize me. Then again, if I were to suddenly reappear at all, it should be at a place where I would not be noticed.'

"And where would this be?" I asked with a hint of frustration.

'Away from CCTV.'

I felt my brows rise. He had a point. CCTV cameras were all over Britain, and though wards usually protected witches and wizards from being caught on camera, who knew what might happen if Severus Snape were to suddenly reappear on a crowded street or square in London, let alone in any populated center in Britain.

"But..." I began.

'But, I cannot be less than a mile from your person, and as you will most likely have whatever lingering effect of the Charm on your person removed in the Department of Mysteries, I can only be a certain distance away.'

Nothing could ever be so simple, could it? Part of me really did not care if someone saw Severus, but that part was small and obviously recklessly out of character.

'Trafalgar Square might do.'

It might. With preparations for the Olympics, the tourists, the recent marriage in the royal family, places like Trafalgar Square would be packed with people and CCTV could only see so much at one time. It was close, perhaps less than a mile from the Ministry...

"You have already planned this," I commented wryly.

There was no answer.

I sighed, "So be it. I know where I will be tomorrow at eleven am, and I know where you will be," for once, "so that is that."

'Except that I want to verify that the Charm has been dispelled.'

I looked toward my lap, licking my lips. I knew I could never hide the slightest reaction from an invisible man, thus I was sure he noticed my discomfort, hesitation, and befuddlement.

Why would he want to see me again after he would be free? I could imagine that after so many years, Severus Snape would never want to see my face again. I wanted to ask him what he would do with his impending freedom, but saved myself the pain.

Pain? Yes, I felt a dull pain at the idea of the loss of him, though I could not explain it, and I was not sure if I wanted to expend my waning energy for introspection.

I rose and went to the kitchen for a glass of water, and as I reached up in the cabinet for a glass I felt a touch on my wrist. I froze and closed my eyes for a moment until the touch was gone and I opened my eyes to continue my intended action. As I drank my water, letting the cool water soothe a knot in my throat, I turned to lean back against the counter, looking at my supposedly empty flat.

"I will look for you," I whispered. "I will look for you and when I see you I will bid you farewell."

There was no answer, and I felt quite alone, knowing on some level that Severus had left the range of my whisper.

* * *

I slept fitfully that night after a day of not doing anything more than preparing a small portfolio to take with me to the interview and smoothing my clothes hanging on the back of my bedroom door. Severus had not spoken to me, and I tried not to notice that I may be under surveillance.

When I laid my head down and switched off the bedside lamp, I closed my eyes and tried to will myself to sleep a dreamless sleep. I did not bother with the phials of Dreamless Sleep in the bathroom cabinet, as I wanted to be somewhat alert that next morning. I did dream, however, but it was more a remembering of foggy memories than a dream.

I was eighteen again, and I could feel the lightness of that time in my dreaming body, a time when I was rail thin and starving for a moment of peace. I was running, as I seemed to be doing most of that year of my life, running from Death Eaters along the burning grounds of Hogwarts. Harry and Ron were with me, as they were always with me, but their faces were smudges in my dream and their voices, though forceful, were merely unintelligible sounds that went through my mind like grunts and yells.

Then I was where I should have been and could not remember. I was in the Shrieking Shack under the weight of the Harry's cloak, and before us was Severus Snape, gasping on the dusty floor. The violence that had laid Severus out had only just occurred out of the corner of my eye, and I could hear the disgusting dry slither of a snake upon the floorboards. Blood welled up from a pale throat in the dim room, and the wet gurgling coming from Severus' mouth was enough to make my dream stomach clench.

This was what I could not remember.

I watched like a spectator the events that transpired, leading to Severus' supposed death, the expelling of silvery memory strands, and Harry's body leaning over Severus, those green eyes, so wide with shock and fear, meeting black eyes that burned with the remaining spark of life. And when those eyes closed, I felt my body split in two, my eighteen-year-old self stepping out of my dream body and going on with Harry and Ron. My dream self was left behind to stare toward Severus' body, now motionless, the wound oozing and slowly clotting blood around his head.

I wanted to go to Severus' side, half forgetting that I was dreaming, and try to save him. By all appearances, the wizard was dead, but as I studied his crumpled body, somehow diminished and small, I could see that his chest rose and fell so slightly that air only refreshed in his dying lungs once every minute.

The light changed as I stared at the man, and I realized it was the passing of time, until, quite unexpectedly, I felt my eighteen year old body return, stepping back into place with my dream body. I could move.

When my hands touched Severus' waxen face, I could feel the cold of his body, the death that was spreading from his heart to his brain. I could feel the emptiness of his soul, having given up his most precious memories, memories I only learned of well after the defeat of Voldemort. I had not known at the time of Severus' love for Lily Evans Potter, I had not known that Severus had been as I had always believed him to be—a hero.

I wept for him, and the tears that streamed down my filthy face dripped gray drops onto his face. I felt my wand slip into my hand, and distantly, a force of will forming in my memory. I was going to save this man.

I felt my body begin to summon the magic I might need, and as I began to move to cast, I awoke suddenly.

The dream dissipated as quickly as it came, and I found myself staring at a beam of light from between the curtains, lighting an area of my bedroom wall. I was early morning, perhaps an hour before I intended to rise, and the beam of light was more from a streetlight than from the rising sun.

I groaned softly and rolled onto my back, throwing an arm over my eyes.

I had been so close to remembering, but all I was left with was the remembrance of how I felt when I saw Severus Snape dying before me. It was more than I could remember before, but it was not enough. All the same, I could feel the conflict lingering in my brain, the fear, the anguish and pain. Those feelings were as fresh as if I had relived them through a Pensieve, and I stifled a hiccup of a cry by rolling over again and pressing my face into my pillow.

Shame coursed through me, and I wept silently into my pillow. I figured it was delayed grief or post-traumatic stress, but it passed as I felt more and more awake.

I rose; unconsciously searching for a man I had trapped and could not see.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

I could almost believe that I had been having a weeklong delusion of Severus Snape when I passed through the Ministry halls. I could almost believe that I was cracking up when I stepped into the lift that would take me down into the basement levels of the Ministry where I was to meet a witch by the name of Magda Jeffries in a conference room off one of the courtrooms. I even could almost believe that if I went to Trafalgar Square that I would never see Severus Snape alive.

For a week, due to the stress of the impending interview with the Department of Mysteries, I had somehow summoned an imaginary man to keep my boredom at bay. Yet, as I knocked on the black door to the conference room, ignoring the pointed stares of the passing Ministry staff preparing for a civil trial in a nearby courtroom, I prayed to whatever deity would listen, that I would somehow find some levity.

I was admitted to the conference room when the latch clicked open, and as I stepped into the room, I found that I was inside a space no larger than a closet with bare white walls, a marked contrast to the dark corridor outside. Inside there were two chairs, simple high backed wooden chairs with arms and a deep blue cushioned seat. One chair faced the door, the other facing the far wall, and sitting in the chair with its back turned to me, was a witch I had met before, and I immediately felt my face burn.

Dr. Martha Jones turned to look at me with a smile, her oddly brilliant violet eyes sparkling in the harsh strip lighting overhead, and as I stood frozen just in the doorway, she raised a hand to motion me to come closer. Mortification is too simple a word to describe what I felt at that moment, and it took a considerable amount of will not to step back out into the corridor and try to disappear into the dark bowels of the Ministry.

This had to be some terrible cosmic joke, or, in the very least, a crafty little trick, one that I could never have anticipated.

"Please, Hermione, come and sit," Dr. Jones, or was it Magda Jeffries, asked in a warm lilt.

I did as I was told, though I could not say how I did it, and I sat down before Dr. Jones in my new clothes, my small portfolio on my lap, waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. I suddenly wanted my wand, and lamented that it was floors above me at the Wand Check, the ticket in my skirt pocket, burning me as a reminder that I had been separated from my inexorable magical crutch. If I had to use Wandless magic, I could, but what would I use it for?

I leaned back into the chair, unable to breathe properly.

Dr. Jones relaxed into her chair, crossing her legs under her dark blue Unspeakable robes, her long fingers twining to rest on her knee. She smiled at me, and I ground my teeth together behind my lips, waiting.

"I can see your distress, Hermione, so let me put it to you straight..."

Here it came, whatever it would be...

"The moment you put in your application to the Department of Mysteries, we have been testing you."

I blinked.

"You passed our initial trials, but the fact that you have been pulling along another person is part of the reason you are here today."

I, by the sudden laxness of my face, obviously did not understand. I hated not understanding...

"Now, please do not think that because you have been keeping Severus Snape with you all these years is the reason why we want you to work with us, we are quite impressed with your skill, your creativity and intelligence. The matter of Severus Snape is simply an added bonus."

I opened my mouth to speak, but I had no idea what to say except for "I don't understand..."

Dr. Jones smiled again, and though her face was pleasant as it had been the first time I had met her, I could sense that there was craftiness about this woman, one that I could not have seen before. Dr. Jones was delighted that I did not understand, but it was not a delight that meant that she felt superior to me, it was a delight that I had come this far, meaning, to the interview. How I knew this, I could not say, but it seemed that Dr. Jones, if that was really her name, was delighted to be 'helping' me.

"Let me start at the beginning," she said softly and leaned forward slightly to look me in the eye. "We had always believed that the fact that Severus Snape's body was never found after May 2nd was perhaps a chance that he was alive. As you know, death is never a simple matter in the Wizarding world, nor is it ever exactly final."

How true, I had to mentally concede.

"Severus Snape is an immensely powerful wizard, and losing him would have been a terrible blow to us, in fact, to our world, and yet, we did not lose him, did we?"

The slight turning of her voice sent shivers down my back.

"No, we did not," Dr. Jones answered herself and chuckled softly. "In fact, he has been with us for some time, though, I am surprised he is not here with you..."

"But he..." I began, my brows knitting.

"Obliviated me? Yes, he did, but not all of us."

I could feel my mouth working.

"I lied to you that day, when I said that everything said in that office was confidential. We were listening, all of us, in anticipation. You see, your visit was, in part, orchestrated by us, in order to gauge your involvement with Snape's disappearance."

I distantly wondered what Severus would say to this statement, and imagined he was standing in Trafalgar Square waiting to be visible.

"We knew that you, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley, had been present at his so-called death, and that afterward you were somehow involved in the disappearance of Snape's body. Of course, we did not know exactly how you were involved, or what had been done, and it has taken this long to identify that you somehow worked a tidy bit of magic to protect Snape."

I felt a tightening in my throat, and my question came out in a croak.

"Why didn't you come to me before now?"

Dr. Jones' smile faltered slightly for the first time during my acquaintance with her.

"Too many unknowns, and besides, when it comes to suppressed memories, it is best that you would come to us willingly."

What did that mean?

"You coming to us was fortunate, else we would have managed to orchestrate another scenario to get you here..."

"Get me here?" I repeated in question.

Dr. Jones nodded.

"We want to know...we want to learn what sort of genius magic you used to protect Severus Snape. Had you not modified your own memory of the casting, we could have freed Severus Snape before now."

I bit into my lower lip, hard, and clutched my silly little portfolio tighter in my lap.

"We understand why you modified your memory, but it seems that in doing so, you did not give yourself an 'out,' so to speak, an easier way to free Severus Snape from his confinement. Whether this was intentional or not, we will see in a moment, but please understand, Hermione, that we want you in the Department... You have the job."

I could not be cheered at those last words, in fact, I could only feel horrified that I had been so manipulated, and so blind to so much for so long.

Silence fell in the small, bright room, and only the hum of the strip lighting could be heard, but distantly, I could sense that I was being watched and closely. Was every expression gauged, I wondered? Was every word recorded somewhere? Despite having the 'job,' was I somehow going to suffer more for the repercussions of the actions I could not remember?

"Do it," I whispered. "Do whatever it is that you are going to do..."

Dr. Jones shifted in her chair before me and leaned forward even more to catch my eye.

"Do not worry, Hermione, we believe that once you remember, you will not feel so hopeless."

Hopeless? Is that what this feeling was?

My brain was overloading, and with a deep breath, I moved to place my portfolio next to my chair as Dr. Jones rose from her seat to stand before me. When she touched my shoulder, I sat back and closed my eyes, not knowing what to do with myself.

"Thank you, Hermione," Dr. Jones whispered, and before I could open my eyes to ask her why she had said those words, I felt a stab of pain behind my eyes, deep in the recesses of my brain.

What came next was something I could only process in small bits, but when the stabbing pain receded, I took a breath and pushed past Dr. Jones and rushed to the door of the room. I ran, not caring if anyone followed me or what they thought of me—Hermione Granger, brightest witch of my age, lopping through the halls of the Ministry like some crazed animal.

As I passed by the Wand Check, my vinewood wand zipped from its place on the shelf, nearly impaling the Check Wizard, and found my fingers. Once at the Apparition point, I only thought of one thing as the world compressed around me.

Severus.

* * *

The clarity was akin to the elation one felt after taking a drop of Felix Felicis, and as my body slammed into the floor of my flat, I felt his weight atop me though I could not see it. I could feel his body shaking at the sudden violence of Apparition, knowing that when I Apparated, he would be pulled along.

I heard him gasp for air and could feel his unseen breath on my face, but I had to wait for him to roll off me to rise.

'What the hell...' he groaned and suddenly the weight was gone from me.

I rose, more like jumped to my feet, my head and body humming with energy that I had not known since those days of the War. Urgency that was what it was, an overwhelming urgency.

"Severus," I gasped, "take my hand," I said in the direction of his winded breathing.

Merlin, it was all so clear to me now, and the residual pain I felt in my head was nearly gone.

'Why are we here? What happened?'

I thrust my hand toward the sound of his voice again, shaking it for effect. "Take my damn hand, Severus," I growled with as much vitriol as I remembered coming from him all those years ago in the Potions classroom.

When I felt his large hand in mine, I pulled, feeling that he was on his feet.

It was all so stupidly simple, as it should have been, knowing what I did at that moment. Why I had not considered it before was beyond me. I supposed that I was far too wrapped up in feeling violated, put upon by something I could not remember, something that had tied Severus Snape to me.

" _Ego animadverto vos_ , Finite Incantatem."

'Wha—'

I had closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, he was standing just before me, his body backlit by the window, glowing like some dark god.

He blinked at me and then at our clasped hands, and slowly, like a trickle turning to a flood, he smirked at me.

Severus Snape was dressed in near rags, a white button down shirt with dingy stains along the collar, two buttons missing, the sleeves rolled haphazardly up his sinewy arms. His black trousers were frayed at the cuffs and at the waist, and there was a hole in one of the knees. His hair was well past his shoulders, looking more like a mass of black oily fur about his face than the slick strands I remembered. He had aged, but only slightly, a silver strand of hair from his temple accenting the sallow shade of his skin. His face was unshaven, but from the old scars on his jaw I could tell he had attempted to shave, but still there was thin black growth on his jaw, a little more than a shadow. All in all, Severus Snape, needing a proper grooming and clean clothes, had changed very little from the last time I had seen him alive and well.

"Am I here?"

Even his voice was real, not a trace of a distant echo left, but real and sounding quite disbelieving.

I nodded, my hand still in his.

"I _am_ here..." he whispered, his dark eyes, black as a vacuum, moving over my face, reflecting my wonder. "I am here," he said more firmly, apparently also wondering at the solid sound of his own voice.

Suddenly, he was gone, but not because of some spell I cast. He had fled from the room and crashed into my washroom. I followed on his heels, and let my eyes grow wide as I saw why he had run.

Severus was staring at himself in my washroom mirror, his hands pressed on either side, his face contorted in what looked like pain as he stared at himself.

"Gods..." he muttered, and taking a step back, drew his wand from the pocket of his threadbare trousers and began casting.

In a matter of seconds the wild, raggedy man was gone, replaced by a man with neater hair, though still long, a shaven face, and freshened and mended clothing. The transformation had an amazing effect, and I was looking on a Severus Snape, ten years older, and very much alive.

When he turned to look at me, I shuddered. He stared at me with an unreadable face. Severus was imposing, standing in my washroom, renewed, and he towered over me so that I felt I must acquiesce to whatever he might do next.

I deserved punishment, I knew, but when I felt his hand upon my cheek, lifting my chin to stare directly into my eyes, I did not expect what came.

He kissed me, and in doing so, unlocked a part of my memory reserved only for dreams.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

There was some magic that would never find its way into books, this I learned early on in my life as a witch. There was some magic that was so terrible that a book could not contain its horror, and there was some magic that could not be written down at all, for it was a magic so powerful that books could not contain its sublimity.

I had put my very will into the Charm that had bound Severus Snape to me, protecting him, healing him, and keeping him a virtual prisoner. I could not simply call it by a name, it was not a spell that could have a name, but I had known this spell before I had erased it and Severus from my mind.

I had saved Severus, I had removed him from the place he should have died, and I had tended to him during the pain and fevers. As it all came back to me, the memory flashing behind my eyes like a bolt of lightning, the residual fear of losing Severus Snape remained. I would have done anything to save him, and in that sentiment, I had given part of my life to him.

Hagrid had been so nervous when I brought Severus out of the tunnel under the Whomping Willow, casting his eyes about the empty grounds. He had taken the wounded man into his arms, wrapping him in an old cloak, carrying him like a newborn child, and I followed Hagrid, knowing that no one would see us so late in the night when most of us could only deal with the loss left behind after the battle. At that point, I had no idea what to do, and the logical part of my brain told me to take Severus to the castle to be placed with the other wounded.

No, it could not be done, Severus Snape, by all accounts was still a villain of the highest degree, and only time would reveal his role as something else. There was no time, and there would be no time until the battle was truly over and those Death Eaters who had survived were tried in court and condemned. There was no time to explain to the others...

Hagrid placed Severus on his large bed, sniffling and close to a full cry, but I could not weep, and would not weep for a long time.

'Watch him,' I whispered to Hagrid, 'I will collect what healing draughts I can.'

I had gone back to the castle, my face made of stone, gathering up healing potions and draughts, whatever I could take when no one noticed me. If I were to speak in explanation, I had planned to tell whomever that I was tending to Hagrid. I was not confronted. Everyone was far too lost to their grief and sense of duty to notice that I was moving around them, filthy but virtually uninjured, setting aside my own grief for another time.

The wound on Severus' throat was a terrible bit of gore, but it healed easily with the proper potions, but the venom that threatened his life and paralyzed him took much longer to negate. The hours I spent separating his blood from the poison turned into a day, and many times I felt as if the attempt to save the man's life was in vain. However, by the second day after collecting Severus Snape from the Shrieking Shack, I had done the near impossible.

It was as I sat on the steps to Hagrid's hut, willing myself to stay awake, and heartened by the thought that Severus would live that Harry and Ron found me, asking me to come with them to collect Severus' body. I had been so tired, near exhaustion, and that had saved me from revealing what I knew already—there would be no body to collect. Feigning shock and surprise had been easy, and when Harry and Ron had left to tend to other matters, I returned to Hagrid's hut to find that Severus was conscious, but unable to speak.

He was weak, but could take broth and water, still lost to fever, but compliant. I tried explaining to him what had happened, but I never knew if he fully understood that Voldemort was defeated. Days passed, and I, having to make an appearance among my friends, left Severus in Hagrid's care. When I could return again, Severus' fever had broken, but his voice was still gone. I remember him lying in Hagrid's bed, staring at me with dim eyes.

'Do you want to live?'

He had nodded, and closed his eyes to shut me out.

I could not tell if he knew who I was, or what I had done. I could only stare at his sallow, sickly face for a long while, unsure what to do next.

Severus could not simply walk away from Hogwarts; he could not simply resume his life as it was without being imprisoned in Azkaban until he was exonerated. Azkaban would suck whatever will to live was left in the man, and there was still fighting going on beyond Hogwarts.

I had to protect him, I had to hide him, but even I could not simply leave Hogwarts, not yet, not when the eyes of the Wizarding world were watching me. The protection of Hagrid's hut would not last, and Severus would not stay when he was able to move again.

I stared at the slow rise and fall of his chest, and I stared at the dried blood on his clothes. So much had gone into destroying this man through the years, that no one, not even Harry at that point, would want Severus to be alive... Severus would have to play the martyr, that would be his role, and who was I to save him?

Merlin, what had I done?

I was so selfish, so arrogant, but as I drew my wand to slice my palm and allow my own life's blood to well up, I was not thinking of consequences—Severus Snape should live, damn the fates, damn destiny, it was wrong to let him die.

It was blood magic, forbidden, bordering on Dark, but I moved my wand and used my blood, whatever it was worth, and began working a spell that had no incantation and no name. When it was done, Severus opened his eyes, staring at me, accusing me, asking me what I had done. Before my own eyes, his body glowed white and the dried blood on his clothing burnt away, as did all the pain and sickness that coated him like a death shroud, and in the back of my mind, I could hear his voice.

You should have let me die...

I closed my eyes and answered that voice with all the emotion I felt for him. I respected him, esteemed him, was indebted to him, cared for him, and that silenced the growing anger I felt from Severus.

'I will save you,' I whispered at last, my eyes opening.

Severus reached for me and I took his cold hand in mine. I could not read the intention of this gesture, but I knew that if he were to remain safe, I would have to forget, even for a short while, what I had done to protect him.

Given time, I could arrange for his safe passage away from this place, and away from this world. Given time, he could go on knowing that his life would not be threatened, and I, in my selfishness to keep him alive, knew that he would somehow help me save him...

'Goodbye, for now,' I whispered to him, squeezing his hand and hoping that he could see that my intentions were set, and my will was strong.

I whispered to Hagrid, who had been nearby all the while, telling him all that he needed to know and must keep secret.

Then...

'Obliviate...'

When I blinked my eyes, I found that I was staring at an empty, rumpled bed, and Hagrid was weeping from the hut's door, silently nodding.

I moved to embrace my friend, and told him that I was returning to the castle. I believed that I had come to comfort the half giant, and at that moment, would go to nurse my own grief with the people I loved.

I did not know that Severus, healed by my blood, followed along, and I did not know that he had taken in the devastation of the battle with fear and regret in his soul. I did not know that he remained with me when I finally went to collect my parents, only to find that they had no desire to return to England. I did not know that Severus was with me when we buried our dead and I mourned the loss of my childhood. And I did not know that Severus was with me when I started on with my adult life, feeling the loneliness that came with growing up.

All I did know was that I could hear him in my head, that small inner voice, like a conscience, pushing me toward a path that would ultimately set him free.

Severus Snape existed in my dreams, and nowhere else.

* * *

For the first time in ten years, I was utterly alone.

"Miss Granger, are you unwell?"

I blinked, and set down my quill and notepad on the worktable, suddenly unable to remember what I had been doing.

"Pardon?"

I had been cataloging in the Hall of Prophecy, standing at the end of one of the long row of shelves where I had been marking off numbers of foregone prophecies that needed to be removed. At some point, I had lost my place and my mind had wandered. I did not hear Purvis Miller, my assistant in the Department of Mysteries, approach, and now I was staring at his young face, lost.

"You are very pale, maybe you should sit down?"

I blinked again, glancing to my notepad and the errant ink drop where I had paused in my writing. I shook myself and smiled.

"I'm fine; I just lost my place..."

Mr. Miller regarded me for a short moment and returned my smile. "Easy to do, I guess...so many prophecies to sort, eh?"

I nodded. Mr. Miller excused himself and walked along the sidewall of the hall to return to his section to begin cataloging again. I, on the other hand, did sit, taking the chair from the worktable and sitting down gracelessly, my robes feeling far too heavy though my insides felt like air.

I did feel unwell, but I did not know why. I only knew that for some reason, I felt very empty, and that I could not summon an inner will to make that sickly feeling pass. My head felt like a balloon floating high above my shoulders and as I turned to rest my elbows on the worktable, I glanced to my notepad again.

My notes along the margin of the paper were a terrible scrawl I knew I had to decipher later on, and I was halfway along the list of numbers, only a dozen or so struck through. Yet, as I squinted my eyes trying to refresh my memory as to where I was along the list, I came upon a clear passage of words at the bottom of the page.

 _You have forgotten him again._

I bit my lower lip, knowing that I had written the words, the scrawl as familiar to me as my own face.

Damn.

I pushed back from the table and looked around me, as if seeing the Hall of Prophecy for the first time. I touched my lips, feeling a strange sensation upon my skin, like a burning pressure, not unpleasant, but odd.

 _You have forgotten him again._

Why had I written that? Who was 'him?' Damn...

I rose from my seat, my robes falling about my legs, weighing my body down to the spot. I groaned and pulled at the robes, the clothing of my position as an Unspeakable, and when I got the heavy material off my body, I shivered in the cold of the Hall.

 _You have forgotten him again._

Yes, I had forgotten something, and if it were a man, I knew I should find him.

There were some things I could not recall, whether it be because of the passage of time or the unconscious will to forget a trauma, but it seemed lately, that I had been forgetting a great deal of things. I knew I was far too young to be losing my mind, and the concept of Alzheimer's was as foreign to the Wizarding world as online shopping. All the same, the fact that I was mixing up details of my past was alarming sign of something not being quite right. Dementia was not something that ran in the Granger family, and I had not hit my head enough times to explain the gaps and misinformation my brain was feeding back. At first, I thought it was post-traumatic stress. I had read of cases of post-traumatic stress sometimes interfering with memories, and for a while I chalked it up to the fact that I, at the age of seventeen, had experienced enough wartime traumas to need intensive therapy.

I paused as a feeling of deja-vu swept over me like a tsunami's engulfing wave.

I had thought this all before—before I got the position in the Department of Mysteries...

The feeling passed, and I found myself running along the Hall of Prophecy, and even that brought up another feeling of deja-vu, but that feeling I could remember, I had ran along this hall as a mere child, but I had not been alone, not alone as I felt at that moment.

I heard Mr. Miller call after me as I reached the door to the Hall, but I ignored him. If I were to stop, I could not explain where I was going for I had the faintest idea where I needed to go... I simply had to go, I had forgotten him again, and I let my feet carry me.

Him. Him? I focused on the word and tried to understand it. There were so few men in my life, but I could rule out names quickly. Harry, Ron, Hagrid, Mr. Miller, my father, no, none of those men... Him...

As I jumped off the lift to the Ministry lobby, I only slowed to cast a glance at my moving feet, trying not to trip. When I came to the Apparition point beyond the Wand Check, I closed my eyes trying to picture 'him.'

I would go where 'he' was, wherever it may be, but why?

Merlin, I felt so alone, so confused, and so lost. How could I have forgotten something so important? Yes, 'he' was important, 'he' who had made me forget, but I, with my strong will, would remember 'him' and right the wrong I felt.

I did not give a thought to splinching myself in some horrible manner, but Apparated, feeling that somehow I was being punished, and I did not like this feeling in the least.

Light, color, and sound whirled around me as I Apparated and when my feet slammed into the ground, restoring gravity and reality, I fell to my knees in a puddle of rain water. It took several moments for me to catch my breath and realize where I was.

I had come to rest in a filthy alley and before me, out on the street, were people walking with umbrellas and shopping bags with French wording. Rain fell upon my head and shoulders, and as I rose to my feet, I started to draw my wand to orient myself when suddenly the sound of a bell caught my attention.

Just down the alley, near the far end which opened onto another street, a shop door opened and a portly older woman exited, speaking English with a Parisian accent.

"Thank you, Monsieur; I am sure this draught will soothe my arthritis during these rainy days..."

A voice answered with a deep timbre, but I could not discern the words. The woman laughed and pointed to a sign hanging over the door.

"Rains for a rainy day," she twittered and smiled, apparently pleased with her English pun.

I licked my lips and took a few steps toward the woman. As the door closed and the bell twinkled again, the woman blinked at me, and I realized she was about to draw a wand from her sleeve. The woman, who was dressed in a long red rain coat with a strangely patterned dress underneath, did not look like a typical Parisian, if that was where I was, but like many of the people I had seen in London—witches and wizards, dressed to pass as Muggles in old fashioned, often mismatched clothing.

I opened my mouth to reassure her that I too was a witch, but the woman turned on her heel and fled as if chased, out onto the empty street at the far end of the alley. I began to follow her, more to discern where I was than anything, but stopped at the shop door, turning to look up at the old sign.

The sign was half obscured by age, but I could tell that the aging was intentional, and around the edges of the wood, there was a Charm to make the words unnoticeable to anyone who might see it. It was the same sort of magic that kept the street entrance to the Leaky Cauldron nearly invisible to Muggle eyes, and only the Wizarding population could see the entrance for what it was—a gateway into another world.

I felt myself start to laugh at the clever camouflaging, but as I read the sign, I frowned.

Apothecary, Claude Rains proprietor, it read in French.

Claude Rains?

I blinked at the sign as the Charm began to shimmer over the sign, obscuring it slightly. Looking at the door, it too was almost unnoticeable, the glass dusty, the wood worn with age. The shop was in an improbable place, on an alley and off two main thoroughfares. I glanced around for a sign to tell me what streets ran off the alley, but there was nothing to tell me where I was.

As I approached the door, my hand reaching out to take the door handle, I hesitated, feeling the warding, a further protection to discourage Muggles. I ignored the feeling and let my now dripping fingers to close over the handle. The bell sounded again as I pulled the door open, and stepping inside, I shivered, feeling a sudden humid coolness inside the shop.

It was, indeed, an apothecary, and I could smell the cooking of potions from somewhere in the back. There were shelves of potion supplies, cauldrons for sale, and phials with labels in French for Pepper Up, Dreamless Sleep, and Blood Replenishing potions. Lamps high above the floor dimly lighted the shop, and shelves lined the walls with jars of preserved herbs and dried parts of various animals.

Moving to the back of the shop where a counter stood with an antique till, I found, who I assumed was the proprietor, bending over a cauldron with what smelled to be the makings of a Polyjuice potion. I knew the odor very well.

The proprietor raised a hand at my approach. "I will be with you in a moment," he said, and I felt my jaw tighten.

I knew this voice.

There seemed to be so much I knew... Claude Rains was the name of the actor who played the Invisible Man in the old film, a name nearly synonymous with the role. I wondered if any witch or wizard knew that... It was a joke, perhaps, and then I heard the proprietor drop the ladle on the counter.

The man who faced me suddenly paled as he looked at me, and when our eyes met, I gasped.

I knew this face.

I do not know how long we stared at each other, time seemed to slow down to a crawl, but when he spoke, it seemed as if something was released behind my eyes.

"One year and seven months..." he said through his teeth, crooked and slightly yellow.

Claude Rains was a tall man, thin and imposing, but I knew him by another name, a name I had nearly forgotten if something deep in my psyche had not reminded me.

He leaned forward, his large pale hands resting on the counter between us, a strand of raven black hair falling from a tie at the nape of his neck to rest against a sallow cheek.

"One year and seven months, Merlin, woman, you have the most extraordinary mind."

It was all coming back to me, and all I knew was anger.

My brow furrowed and I stepped closer, my own hands going to the counter, leaning toward him so that our noses were only inches apart.

"You Obliviated me," I said in a mixture of anger and disbelief.

He nodded. "It seems it did not take," he responded with a hiss.

He had Obliviated me not long after I had freed him from the Charm, or Curse, or whatever it truly had been that I had done. I was sure he would have considered it a Curse, but...

"You kissed me, you..." I trailed.

He had kissed me. Severus Snape had kissed me in the washroom of my London flat, and when he drew back, I had taken him by the collar and brought him close again, my lips and tongue tasting him as I had done in the many dreams we had shared.

In my dreams, he had always been there, sometimes as a spectator, sometimes as a participant. In the nights when I would touch myself, he had been watching while I was ignorant of his presence, and in my dreams he would touch me in return. He had years to form a sentiment about me, all the while striving to be free of me and what I had done to keep him with me. It was not love, per se, but a regard that I was his captor and his salvation.

I knew this man, every inch of him, and though part of me was repulsed by the idea that he had been my professor, a man I had only ever esteemed during my childhood, the older, mature part of me desired him. It was a strange dichotomy of respect and longing, but I accepted it in my dreams.

In my waking hours, however, I could only look at Severus Snape as a man, a man that I craved to touch me and forgive me.

That day, the day I had set him free, we kissed for the first time in a waking world, and the sensation of that kiss far exceeded that of our dreams. It was silly, I supposed, like something out of silly romance novel, but I felt a spark when we kissed, a true meeting of desires. We had moved against each other, inside each other, not caring about the consequences, or thinking of who or what we were...

Severus had pinned me to the wall of the washroom, his hands questing over my clothing to make it drop around my ankles. I remembered tearing at his restored clothing until our skin touched, just as it had in my dreams. The true texture of his skin was far more solid than it had been in the dream, but the scars and imperfections of his skin were just as I remembered. Even in my dreams, Severus Snape was true, genuine.

We kissed as if we were starving for the taste of our mouths, saliva like an elixir that fueled our desire. When he grasped my hips to hoist me up along the wall, I remembered looking back toward the washroom mirror to see the reflection of his pale back, the bony ridge of his spine and the sure movement of sinew under his skin. I remembered calling his name when he slid inside me, rending apart my most tender of flesh, and I thinking that this was a metaphorical sword I would gladly fall upon. Pain and exquisite pleasure coursed through every nerve, and as Severus moved against me, forcing my body into the wall, I could hear our mingled exhales and soft sighs echoing in the small space. I held to him, unable to let him go, unwilling to let him go.

It had been so profane and unattractive, and when we lost our footing and fell hard into the washroom tile, we shared a gasp and a soft intoxicated guffaw. I hiccupped as he continued thrusting into me, even though my head buzzed as it had in my dreams, and I questioned the wisdom of allowing Severus Snape, a man I both respected and reviled, to, for lack of a better word, 'fuck' me like some scarlet woman on a washroom floor. Yet, as I felt the tightness of my lower belly draw taut and my climax approach, I realized it did not matter one whit. This was something I wanted, I, alone and without suggestion, wanted.

He nipped and kissed my shoulder, my chin, my breasts, growling like a starving animal afraid that another beast would take his meal. I could only sigh and sob against him, until we had moved, by the force of our meeting, into the corridor. When he finally came, I was already undone and reeling. We lay like a heap of skin and bone and sweat in the narrow, dark corridor, gasping for fresh air. At some point we retired to the bedroom to lie together on my bed, only to reignite our bestial mating an hour later.

With a smirk, I wondered how someone like this man could be so willing to expend so much energy to take me again, contorting my body to find just the right position. How many years had we done this very thing in my dreams? I was drunk with him, and every kiss and every taste of his sweat and skin on my tongue only made me want more of him. I could touch him and hold him for a million years and never be satiated. And when our bodies, spent and unable to produce the energy to continue our mad lovemaking, rested, I know I slept dreamlessly, unwilling to remove myself from him.

I woke at some point to stare at his face in disbelief, only to find that he was watching me through his dark and impossibly long eyelashes—there were so many small details about Severus Snape I would have never noticed until then...

He extracted himself from me, and immediately I felt the change in his demeanor. I could not know his mind, the connection, whether it had been due to the Charm or from his expert Legilimency, was gone and I could only speculate what he was thinking to do next.

I could never expect it...

He Obliviated me and fled, even after I asked him to forgive me again at some point during our coupling, even after I told him that I had fallen in some sort of love with him although I had not been conscious of it.

Now, however, he was staring at me in frustration, and I was not sure what might happen as we stood in a dark, humid apothecary somewhere in France, perhaps Paris.

"What will you do now, Hermione Granger? Will you Curse me again to remain with you until the end of time?"

I pushed back from the counter and frowned.

"No," I laughed, not knowing why.

He straightened and crossed his arms before his chest, a movement so familiar that I felt my heart tug on some invisible string. I wanted to touch him, just as I had touched him one year and seven months before...

Severus cocked his head curiously and studied my dripping clothes and me. For a long while he watched me and when he seemed to have enough of me, he drew his wand and cast. I winced, but there was no need to fear as magic worked over my skin, drying and refreshing my hair and clothes.

"You really are an extraordinary witch, Hermione Granger, but quite infuriatingly persistent," he conceded and moved around the counter, slipping his wand back into his robes, robes that were not unlike those he wore at Hogwarts, robes that reeked of potions and his scent, a scent that brought back all those supposedly lost memories of the day we had parted one year and seven months before.

When he touched my face, lifting my chin to look up into his face, I could not read his expression, but I could see him. This fact, again, tugged at my heart, and suddenly I was in his arms again.

"If I am to never be free of you, I suppose I could not settle for a more benevolent captor."

I smiled into his chest, but I knew he would never smile back, for I knew, better than anyone, it simply was not in his character.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

As to the title: "Urit enim fulgore suo qui praegravat artes intra se positas; extinctus amabitur idem," or "That man scorches with his brightness, who overpowers inferior capacities, yet he shall be revered when dead," from Horace's Epistles (II, 1, 13), referring to Augustus. **Original Prompt:** Hermione is beginning to think she doesn't remember the war the same way that anyone else does, including Severus's fate. For hinkykneazel


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